I recently inherited a few boxes of linens and such that belonged to my husband's grandmother, lovingly called mee-maw. I never had the chance to meet her, but she was truly a special lady. She could do anything. She could sew anything. She crochet all of her own dish cloths and her knitting put me to shame. She even kept scrapbooks filled with magazine pictures and fabric samples of the things she planned to make. She kept everything and since she had no daughters of her own all of it was boxed up and sat in my father-in-laws warehouse. Now slowly many of her sewing and crafting things are finding a home with me. It has been an honor to put to use all the things she once used. In this box filled with old towels and dishcloths I found a pink box filled with neatly folded hankies. As I carefully unfolded each hanky I started to tear up as I saw the the stains from tears. Her tears, the tears of her children, tears of joy, and tears of sorrow. There were a few drops of blood on a few, undoubtedly from the boo-boos of her sons and grandchildren. Those hankies will forever be kept neatly folded in her little pink box, a reminder of the tears of a very fine lady.
